


I Knew A Boy

by Saoirse_Laochra



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bullying, Child Abuse, Fighting, Gen, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saoirse_Laochra/pseuds/Saoirse_Laochra
Summary: This is a real-life story, about a boy I grew up with. Names and locations have been changed."I don’t remember exactly when I became aware of what was going on down the road from us, but from a fairly early age, I knew something was wrong. That Mikey’s family wasn’t like mine. By the time we had started preschool, it had become completely normal to everyone to see Mikey with bruises.  Especially those of us who lived within a mile radius of the Wilcox home. Never did a week go by that we wouldn’t hear Mikey screaming in pain, or Jimmy screaming in anger."





	

I was twenty three years old the last time I saw Micah Jonathon Wilcox alive. I had recently moved back to the small town of Luxley, Illinois along with my husband, and new son.

It was the most random of meetings. We were twenty minutes outside of town, at the closest Wal-mart, where I had decided to grab some last minute items for a barbeque. I was grabbing chicken in the frozen section when I first saw him, and at first, I barely recognized him. He’d always had a shaggy mane, but his hair was completely _gone_. I’d heard he’d joined the Army, but it was still a shock to see the buzz cut.

“Micah?”

He turned, and stared for a moment, before recognition dawned on his face. “Nicki?”

We both hesitated a moment, before awkwardly hugging. It’d been almost four years since we’d seen each other.

“How are you doing?” I asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“Pretty good. Obviously I joined the army,” He said wryly, with that grin I remembered from first grade, as he ran his hands over his almost non-existent hair.

“Yeah, I heard. I guess you’re out?”

“Yeah, finished my tour in Iraq a few months ago.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you made it back okay. You still staying on base, or they put you up in a house somewhere?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “I uh… I’m actually staying at home.”

I froze, not knowing what to say. Finally, I managed to choke out, “And how’s your dad doing?”

The sad smile he gave me told me he knew what I was really asking. “Same ol’, same ol’,” He said, a pained look shooting across his face, before vanishing behind the smile again.

I couldn’t force the words out. I tried. But finally, he just patted me on the back, and walked away.

“See you around, Monk.”

I didn’t know that the next time I’d see him, it’d be in a casket.

 

* * *

 

When I was younger, I knew a boy. His name was Micah Wilcox.

Micah and his family lived across the road, and about a hundred yards up the road from me. We’d ridden the same bus together to school in elementary school, and we’d become friends from our preschool days.

Luxley was a fairly small town.  About two thousand people, which were divided between North Luxley and West Luxley. It was pretty evenly split population wise, and it was the small, quaint little villages you always see on TV.

But, the downside to the small, quaint little villages is always the same: everybody knows everybody’s business. Luxley was no exception. In that town, nobody had any secrets, or if they did, they didn’t stay secret for long.

My name is Nicole Sullivan. My family had lived in Luxley since 1854, when my great-great-great grandparents immigrated there from Ireland during the Great Famine. A few of my ancestors and relatives had strayed away, but for the most part, the Sullivan Clan resided in Luxley.

James and Paula Wilcox were something of the local village scandal. Jimmy was a local boy born and raised, but he’d run away from home at sixteen, and he came back four years later with his pregnant girlfriend. The entire town knew they drank, did drugs, and they were continually throwing loud parties till all hours of the night. Rumor has it, Old Man Wilcox keeled over from a heart attack after his son Jimmy was arrested for cocaine possession. Whether or not the story is true –and I wasn’t born yet, so I don’t know –it shows the basic attitude the town had towards the youngest generation of Wilcoxes.

It didn’t help matters any when Paula miscarried her first child. Again, rumor had it she’d been drinking and snorting anything that would fit up her nose, so it really didn’t come as any surprise anyone, or so local gossip had it.

Micah was born six months before I was, two years after Jimmy moved back to town.

I don’t remember exactly when I became aware of what was going on down the road from us, but from a fairly early age, I knew something was wrong. That Mikey’s family wasn’t like mine. By the time we had started preschool, it had become completely normal to everyone to see Mikey with bruises.  Especially those of us who lived within a mile radius of the Wilcox home. Never did a week go by that we wouldn’t hear Mikey screaming in pain, or Jimmy screaming in anger.

Looking back on it now, two instances stand out most prominently in my mind from our younger years together.

The first was when we watched Old Yeller in Mrs. Jenson’s class.  I crawled over to him, maneuvering my way around the other kids, to sit next to him. When I asked if he was alright, he just shook his head.

“It’s just… he was such a good dog. He didn’t deserve that,” He said softly, tears forming in his eyes as we watched Travis shoot his beloved dog. The dog he hadn’t wanted, but had grown to love.

Looking back, there were so many things I should have said. So many things that needed to be said. But I did the only thing my five year old mind could comprehend, and hugged him tightly, letting him cry silently on my shoulder.

The other image that stands out came from our first grade year. The last year I would be in school until ninth grade.

One of the seconds graders –Johnny Hamilton –was one of the biggest kids in the school. And one day in the fall, he decided to pick on my only female friend, a small, shy girl named Lisa Cohn. He had chased her around with a jump rope during both recesses we had that day, throwing the jump rope over her, and yanking it tight.

I finally seen what was going on, and stood up to him. Told him to pick on somebody his own size. Of course, he decided that meant I had volunteered to be his newest target.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes that he tormented me. One minute, he’s yanking the rope as tight as he can around me, keeping me pinned to the underside of the wooden play fort, and the next, he was lying on the ground, his nose bloody.

I think that was the first time I’d ever seen Mikey as the other kids saw him. He wasn’t much bigger than I was, but danger radiated from every pore in his six year old body.

Johnny ended up with a broken nose, a black eye, and mess of bruises before one of the teachers managed to pull Mikey off, kicking and screaming the whole time. He received a three day suspension.

I remember feeling bad that he’d gotten into trouble for me. But my young mind had no way to process the scared look in his eye as his dad’s truck pulled into the school to pick him up.

As hard as I try, I can’t remember what he looked like when he came back to school on Friday. Did he have more bruises than usual? Did he hold his ribs as would later become common-place for him to do? Did I just not notice the bruises? Did he cover them?

Whatever the case was, the first thing he did when he saw me was to run up to me, and give me a tight hug.

“Are you alright?”

Was I alright… What a laugh. After everything, he was worried about me.

But that was Mikey, through and through. No concern for himself, always worried about his friends.

* * *

 

I moved away from Luxley the summer after first grade. My father and I moved from the little sleepy town in Illinois to Dallas, Texas, to be closer to my aunt and uncle down there.

It was a random fluke that brought us back to Luxley almost eight years later.

Coming back, almost nobody recognized me. They had all formed new friendships, that had with stood the tests of time.

I was the loner that had only briefly played a part in their lives.

But not Mikey.

I think he recognized me almost instantly. His brow had furrowed, before the familiar grin came over his face. Pushing his way through the milling students, all struggling to get their schedules on the first day, he’d embraced me, before picking me up and spinning me around.

“Nicki! How long have you been back?”

There wasn’t nearly enough time to catch up before the first bell rang, signaling us to head to our classes. He promised to find me at some point during the day, before vanishing into the crowd.

As it turned out, we had second period global studies, fifth period lunch, and seventh period study hall together.  We had caught up on my adventures relatively quickly, before I’d steered the conversation around to him, and how he was doing.

He flashed me that trademark grin –the one that hid so much pain –and said, “You know. Same ol’, same ol’.” The look I gave him must have said what I couldn’t force out, since he shrugged casually. “It’s all good, babe. Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

 

* * *

 

It was two weeks into classes. Global studies. I had just seen my boyfriend outside the door to the class, and asked to go to the bathroom. After a few minutes of talking, my boyfriend had given me his hat –which was clearly a wigger hat –before I’d headed back towards into the classroom.

Mikey never missed a thing. As soon as he saw my hat, he started laughing.

“Goin’ wigger on me, Nicki? ‘Cause you know I can’t be seen with you looking like that.”

I wasn’t even thinking as I grinned at him, flipping him the bird.

Instantly, Mrs. Shelly flipped out. Almost before she’d opened her mouth to start yelling, I put my hands together like I was praying, and bowed to her while saying sorry. Don’t know why. Can’t remember what possessed me to do that, even today.

But Mikey thought it was great. He had actually fallen out of his chair laughing. From then on, he always called me his ‘Little Buddhist Monk’, or Monk for short.

But our happiness, and newly re-formed friendship was short lasted.

Three months into our freshmen year, Mikey was arrested. Rumors abounded for days, before the real story came out.

His younger sister Annie had caught him stealing his father’s cigarettes, and told their dad. So Jimmy Wilcox had beaten the hell out of his only son. After the old man had left, Mikey had beaten the hell out of his younger sister.

Four months in a juvenile detention facility.

I’d tried writing him letters. I’d actually sucked up my hatred and my pride, and talked to his parents. Asked them how to get in contact with him, where I could address the letters.

Paula was so far gone in the bottle she didn’t answer. Jimmy told me to get off his porch. Annie was still in the hospital.

 

* * *

 

When Mikey came back to school, most people shunned him like he had the plague. Very few people remained loyal to him. Looking back on it, I realize most of the ones who stood by him were kids who had their own family problems.

But to the rest of the school, the damage was done. The cat was out of the bag. Fourteen year old Micah had put his eleven year old sister in the hospital for two weeks.

The change had already started when he came back to school. But within a week of the stares, the muttered insults, and cruel pranks, he’d gone completely cold. He still had the occasional smile for those he was closest to, but even then… it wasn’t that Mikey grin we’d all come to know and love. It was just a shadow of itself. That was also about the time when he started holding his ribs. When he walked, when he sat, when he stood… Whatever he was doing, he kept at least one arm wrapped around his rib cage.

But despite the insults and the taunts, the other kids realized fairly quickly not to push too far with him. A junior –thinking to be all big and bad –had confronted Mikey in the hallways. Called him all sorts of names, going on about how he was a woman-abuser, before swinging at him.

The kid was huge. Fists like jackhammers. He pounded and pounded, but Mikey just wouldn’t go down. It wasn’t until after Mikey had dropped the other kid to the ground, pummeling him until his face was covered in blood, that Mikey finally stopped. Stopped, and walked back over, sat down, and continued eating his lunch. Blood pouring from his nose and lip, one eye swollen shut… and one arm wrapped around his ribs. But he never flinched. He never moved until the principal came in, and lead him out of the cafeteria.

Nobody really bothered him too much after that.

Granted, they really didn’t have a lot of time.

It was just a few months later, when I awoke to the sirens blaring down the road. I ran to my window just in time to see paramedics loading Old man Wilcox into the ambulance, and an officer shoving a bruised, bloody, and kicking Mikey into the backseat of the cruiser.

Rumors flew, and it was all the town could talk about. Some people said Mikey had snapped, and attacked his father at the dinner table. Others said Jimmy had gone after Mikey for trying to beat Annie again.

You would have to understand the politics of a small town to understand what happened next. As soon as Jimmy regained consciousness, he refused to press charges, and both he and Mikey were released a few days later, Jimmy from the hospital, Mikey from juvenile detention.

A  two-by-four had found, covered in Mikey’s blood. Annie had told the police that Jimmy and Mikey had gotten into a fight about grades during dinner, and Jimmy had stormed off. The family thought he had left, but after a few minutes, he’d come back in, snuck up on Mikey, and started beating him with the two-by-four. Mikey fought back, and Annie ended up calling the cops.

Nothing was done. The matter was dropped, and quietly swept under the rug. Within a few weeks, the town had moved on to the next scandal.

Micah was never the same. He no longer associated with anyone, aside from the occasional smile, or nod to me, or one of the few other people who still cared about him. After a little while, he became ‘the problem student’. Teachers no longer wanted him in their class. Upper classman told the sophomores and freshmen horror stories about how Micah Wilcox would beat up anyone just for breathing the same air.

And for the most part… they were right. The sweet kid I’d known was gone. He didn’t take anything from anyone anymore. He only spoke when spoken to, and even then, most people got a sharp, biting response, or cussing. By our junior year, he had gotten heavily involved in drugs.

By the time we graduated, I was the only one who was still friends with Micah Wilcox. We still ate lunch regularly, although often times, neither one of us would speak. On occasion, I’d still hear yelling coming from the house up the road and across the street. I lost track of how many times the cops had shown up.

Within a few months of my graduation, my father and I moved back to Dallas. I wouldn’t return to Luxley again for almost five years.

 

* * *

 

Luxley only had three businesses.  They’d been around since long before I was born, although over the years, they’d changed hands a few times. A Citgo gas station, The Stars And Bars Bar,  and Luxley Wine and Spirits.

It was early spring when I stopped at the gas station on my way home from my in-laws house. I hated stopping there, since it was the central hub for gossip, but I needed cigarettes, and I didn’t want to drive the twenty minutes to the next closest town.

I was waiting in line when I heard Liam –who ran the place –and Mr. Ingers, a local farmer, talking. At first, I was irritated at the wait, but after a few minutes, I began listening to their conversation.

“Yup… Damn shame. An’ you know it was that… Whassit called… PTSD, or whatnot that done it,” Mr. Ingers was saying, shaking his head sadly. “Lotta boys come back from over there, all sorts a messed in the head.”

Liam nodded, clucking his tongue. “Yup. I heard Annie’s the one who found him like that. Just walked into his bedroom, and seen him layin’ there, half his damn head missin’. Such a shame.”

Suddenly, Liam seemed to notice me standing there.

“Well hello, Ms. Sullivan! Or wait… It’s Mrs. Hart now, isn’t it?”

“Hi, Liam. Mr. Ingers,” I said, forcing a smile to my face. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I’m surprised you didn’t hear!” Mr. Ingers said, although the huge grin on his face told me how excited he was that he knew something I didn’t.

“Hear what?”

“About the young Wilcox boy, of course! Damn shame, really. Blew the back of his brains out, just a few hours ago. I mean, not that it really surprised anyone, of course. We all knew the boy had pro – Where you goin’?”

I ran out of the store, and raced home, only to have my husband confirm it. The police had arrived at the Wilcox home a few hours ago, and pronounced Micah Jonathon Wilcox dead on the scene.

It was four days before Easter.

* * *

 

It was raining on Monday. Seemed appropriate, really, since no one else was shedding any tears at Micah’s funeral. Paula was drunk, Jimmy was bored, and the rest of the town was just there for the show. Annie didn’t even bother to show up.

It was a touching service. Granted, would have been more touching if the pastor hadn’t gone on about the loss Paula and Jimmy had gone through, and how ‘we would all miss him’. But it wasn’t bad.

As I stared down in the casket, I trailed my hand over his arm, the cheap suit feeling all wrong on him. I knew what lay under that suit.

The tattoo Micah had gotten sometime over summer vacation after our junior year. A tattoo of the grim reaper, holding a baby, with ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper’ written underneath.

As I stared at the spot of his suit that covered the tattoo, I tried to picture it one last time. And for the first time, I finally understood.

The Grim Reaper, cradling the baby in his arms. The scythe… not _threatening_ the baby, but _protecting_ it.

_Don’t Fear The Reaper._

Guess at the end, Micah didn’t fear him. He’d lived most of his life in fear… But at the end…

I’d like to think he isn’t afraid anymore.


End file.
